"For God's sake, she slept on the couch, not in my bed," Mitch yelled suddenly. He looked like he was fed up with him, and Rico was too.
"You want a medal for that?" he asked. "Why the hell was she cooking you bacon, Mitch?"
"She insisted on making breakfast," Mitch said forcing each word out. He was losing patience, but Rico didn't care.
"And you have no control over who cooks in your kitchen?"
"Apparently not. You make yourself at home over here and do whatever the fuck you want," Mitch snapped at him.
"So it's the same thing? That's what you're saying. Now tell me again how nothing happened," Rico said while glaring at him.
"I don't need to explain myself to you," Mitch claimed.
"Because I'm nothing to you, right?" Rico didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he asked Mitch, "Aren't you sick of it yet?"
"What?" Mitch asked narrowing his eyes and clenching his jaw.
"Of being a fucking coward!" Rico yelled and then went back to digging up roots and trying to channel every wretched, agonizing emotion inside him into the next strike of the pickaxe against the ground.
They worked in silence for a long time. Rico didn't even know how long, but then they heard a car honking and Mitch said, "That must be Wyatt bringing back Sammy." It was a warning to Rico to act right, but he didn't need it.
Rico straightened and leaned on the shovel he had been using to dig holes. He stretched feeling the ache of working non-stop and prepared himself to be cheerful to Sammy when he saw her.
She ran around the corner of the house and stared at what they had been doing disapprovingly. "You made it messy, Rico," she scolded him and he couldn't help but smile.
"It will look nice when we start planting some flowers. Grandma ordered some nice plants," he told her as she came over to peer at the holes they dug.
"Not vegetables, right?" she said and fixed him with her inquisitive, blue eyes.
"Just flowers," he assured her. He wondered where Mitch was then he saw him coming out the kitchen door with a water bottle for each of them.
If Sammy wasn't there, Rico would have refused the water Mitch offered him no matter how thirsty he was, but now he took it and even thanked him.
Later on, when he was heading out, Mitch walked him to his car. Rico wondered why then he got his answer when Mitch looked down at the ground, sighed then spoke up. "Look, I know I've sent you some mixed messages but..."
Rico couldn't let him finish if all he was going to say was that it was all a mistake, and Mitch now knew what he wanted and it wasn't him. That's why he cut him off. "If you're looking for someone to let you off the hook, that's not me," he told Mitch curtly.
Dropping the mild, almost apologetic tone he used before, Mitch now matched Rico's combative attitude. "I don't need to be let off the hook," he stated sharply. "I'm not in the wrong here."
"Are you saying I am?" Rico already knew the answer. Mitch was telling him that he was, that he had no rights here. That meant Mitch could do whatever he damn well wanted without giving him a single thought. "Fuck you, Mitch."
"Real mature."
"I don't need to be any more mature than I feel like being. I'm not trying to impress you." Rico turned toward the car, swung open the car door then stopped. His voice got tight as he said, "This thing we were doing never made any sense anyway."
He got in behind the wheel and slammed the car door. He glared at Mitch. Then without breaking eye contact, he turned the ignition and put the car in gear. He backed out of the driveway like that until it curved. The whole time Mitch stood there and angrily watched him drive away.
Chapter 20
Mitch thought it was bad when he spent all night thinking his bed was too big and obsessing about Enrico, his body, his taste, how good it felt to make him come, but this was worse. He kept hearing Enrico's angry voice that now had a sharp, ragged edge he had never heard before. Mitch saw the hurt look in his eyes, an expression that hovered on the edge of hate. Those things stirred the need in him to reach out and do whatever it took to soothe away Enrico's pain.
That was the very thing Mitch couldn't do when he was face to face with him. Enrico was like some wild thing, wounded and lashing out, leaving him no way to approach.
Maybe that was just an excuse. Wasn't he really hoping it was over, and he wouldn't have to ask himself any more why he wanted Enrico so much? It wasn't working out that way though.
Mitch was still restless, still aching for Enrico while the whole time wondering if this thing between them was really over. Words like "It's only a lovers' quarrel" sometimes came into his head to taunt or to console him, he didn't know which.
It made him wonder if Stella was a test and he let her keep trying to win him over to see if she could. Mitch didn't think he was encouraging her, but the questioning in his head wouldn't stop especially when he remembered Enrico calling him a coward.
